Megan’s smug expression vanished instantly.
“Jason…” she whispered nervously. “Maybe we should go.”
But Jason wasn’t listening.
His face had turned red with panic. He lunged toward me again, pointing at my phone.
“Delete that recording NOW!”
Before he could reach me, another voice thundered from behind him.
“DON’T MOVE.”
Officer Daniels — my father’s longtime friend and neighbor — stood at the open door beside two Charlotte police officers.
Apparently Mr. Thompson had called them the moment he heard Jason planned to “discuss finances” with me after the funeral.
Jason backed away quickly, clutching his swelling wrist.
“She attacked ME!” he shouted desperately.
I held up my bleeding lip silently.
Then Mr. Thompson calmly handed the officers his recording.
The room went quiet except for Jason’s own voice echoing from the phone:
“Everything you have belongs to me.”
